


Achilles, Come Down

by adr3stia



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Happy Ending, I couldnt, M/M, Nobody Dies, Songfic, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27904876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adr3stia/pseuds/adr3stia
Summary: "What's going on?""It's about Grantaire. He's- He's on the roof, Enjolras. Please hurry."In which Grantaire has a breakdown, but his friends don't leave him alone. In which even the darkest night can end, and the sun will rise.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 57





	Achilles, Come Down

**Author's Note:**

> Just to be clear, there is no graphic violence. I just wanted people to be warned and avoid getting triggered.  
> I stumbled across Achilles, Come Down by Gang Of Youths, and cried for hours. It reminded me of Grantaire, which means it reminds me of myself, as well.  
> I hope you enjoy it!

Enjolras awoke with a start, the relentless buzzing side from his phone making him roll over in bed and answer with a muffled groan, his eyes half-closed. It took him a minute to register Combeferre's voice flowing out the small speaker. 

"Ferre?" He mumbled. "What's going on?"

" _Get dressed and hurry, there's an emergency at Joly's place. We need you here_."

He sat up, blinking any trace of sleep from his eyes as he frowned in confusion in realizing how panicked his friend sounded. "What's going on?"

" _It's about Grantaire. He's-_ " Only then did Enjolras hear the frantic voices in the background as Combeferre all but sobbed. " _He's on the roof, Enjolras. Please hurry._ "

He didn't remember getting dressed or rushing in the cold streets towards Joly's house - he only knew he was breathless and freezing as he quite literally flew up the stairs. He found his friends huddled up against the door that opened to the rooftop, all in various states of evident distress. He took them in, one by one, trying to stop his gut from twisting and his heart from racing.

Combeferre was pacing around the hall, hurriedly talking on the phone with what seemed to be an emergency responder. Courfeyrac barely restrained his tears as he held a shaking Jehan tight against his chest, their face hidden in the crook of Courfeyrac's neck as he stroked their back in a failed attempt at reassurance. Bossuet was pounding on the door, his voice hoarse as he begged Grantaire to open up, calling his name. Joly stood close to him in complete silence, the others were sitting against the walls. Eponine was trying to light a cigarette around her uncontrollably shaky hands. Cosette and Marius were in a corner, Cosette's sobs more visible than audible. Bahorel stared at the void, eyes glistening with tears.

It took them a while to acknowledge his presence since he didn't say a word. He silently approached the door when Bossuet left his post and dropped onto the floor, swiftly followed by Joly. Through a small window, he caught a glimpse of Grantaire, sitting on the edge of the building, a bottle in his hand, eyes fixed in front of him, almost as he refused to look back at them. Enjolras felt it when his heart got stuck in his throat. He felt Combeferre put a calming hand on his shoulder, and he spoke tentatively.

"Grantaire? It's me." He tried masking the panic that had risen in his chest with all he had. Judging from Combeferre's hand tightening on his arm, he must have failed.

Grantaire stayed impossibly still, making Enjolras wonder whether he had heard or not. He banged on the door loudly, making Grantaire flinch.

"Look at me, Grantaire. You don't have to say anything, just look at me, please."

Grantaire looked like he was physically restraining himself from doing so, his head slightly twitching as he took another sip from his bottle.

"Please look at me, 'Taire. _Please_."

He desperately scanned around his head, trying to find something that could make Grantaire turn to face him.

That's when the memory hit him.

It hadn't been a special night, not by a long shot - Enjolras had once again stayed late at the Musain to get some work done, Grantaire had once again insisted he wanted to keep him company. Truthfully, all Grantaire would do was drink, stare at him, and attempt to distract him with any means he could. Most of the time, he failed.

On other nights, Enjolras would feel less motivated or focused on his work at such an ungodly hour. On those same nights, Grantaire would sit a bit closer, place his hand on Enjolras' notes and nudge a shot glass in his direction as a grin lazily spread across his face. Enjolras would then roll his eyes, stretch his back languidly, and accept the drink. Grantaire would loudly and exaggeratedly cheer him on as he downed his drink, and he would pour him another, letting the conversation flow easily between the two.

On one nameless and cold February night, they had found themselves sitting dangerously close, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, short of breath from laughter after having mocked their friends for a good thirty minutes. At some point, while trying to catch his breath, he had mindlessly twirled one of Grantaire's wayward curls around his finger. The man had stared at him in a mixture of fondness and confusion, but he hadn't pulled away.

 _"What's your name?"_ Enjolras had asked, slightly louder than a whisper.

Grantaire had burst into another laughing fit. _"Wow, angel. You're drunker than I thought you were."_

Enjolras had scoffed and slapped his arm lightly with his free hand. _"I know who you are, you idiot. I mean, what's your first name?"_

Grantaire had hummed. _"You'd hate it. It doesn't suit me at all."_

 _"I doubt it."_ He had said, smiling sheepishly. _"Tell you what, I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."_

Grantaire's eyes had shone so brightly in the dim bar, Enjolras almost felt blinded. _"Well, that's one hell of an offer. Fine, I'll tell you, but don't tell another soul."_

He had downed the rest of his drink and had moved impossibly closer, his lips almost touching the shell of his ear as he whispered, so softly that Enjolras could have missed it...

* * *

"Achilles."

At the mention of his name, so foreign on someone else's tongue, Grantaire turned painfully fast, effectively doing the one thing he had sworn not to do.

Enjolras stood behind the door, a hesitant smile on his face as the rest of his friends behind him exchanged curious and confused glances, most likely due to the use of his first name. Grantaire kept his eyes trained on Enjolras as he continued speaking, his voice muffled through the door but no less fierce than how it usually was. He sounded like he always did whenever he'd deliver one of his speeches, the ones that had made Grantaire fall for him in the first place.

"Achilles, come down. Won't you get up off the roof?"

Grantaire didn't move.

"You're scaring us," he continued. "And we love you, all of us, so much more than you'll ever know. I know it's not much, Achilles, but it's true." He smiled, although it didn't reach his eyes, and his eyes looked weirdly alit with something that Grantaire refused to acknowledge as tears.

"Please, Achilles. Think of how far you've gotten, think of how well you're doing. Whatever happened, we can fix it, together, all of us are here to help you in every way we can."

Grantaire tried to look away, but he couldn't, not now that he had seen all his friends behind the door, staring at him with tears in their eyes and a terrified expression on their faces. He wanted to shout.

_Don't be scared, it's just me. It won't be that big of a loss. I won't feel any pain and neither will you, I promise._

"Get back in here, Achilles. Let's go for a drive. I'll buy you a drink while you make me laugh like you always do. Come down, won't you get up off the roof?"

At this point, Grantaire felt himself shaking his head no.

"I get it, Achilles. I do. You can't expect yourself to be always unbreakable, but you mean so much more than you think you do, to all of us. Don't you remember our first rule?"

Grantaire could almost laugh. Of course, he remembered. How could he even pretend to forget?

"We said that nobody gets left behind. If one gets in trouble, the others follow. And that's even more relevant for the two of us, isn't it?" He smiled, weird and unfamiliar once again. Grantaire hated it.

"It's always been, Achilles. I follow you and you follow me. Where you go, I'm going, so jump and I'm jumping. There's no me without you - there's no _us_ without you."

He saw Combeferre startle slightly at the words. Enjolras remained unmoved, almost as if he believed in what he had just said.

For a moment, Grantaire thought he had meant it, too.

"You're braver than to just give in, Achilles. Come down. It's okay to hurt, it's okay to feel like the world is closing in on you, but don't suffer alone, you don't have to. You'll heal, Achilles, I promise you. you just have to let yourself rise."

As he took a long sip from what was left in his bottle, he realized how the voice in his head did not seem to agree.

_Achilles._

It felt so weird, hearing his name spit out like that after it had sounded almost like a prayer as it rolled off of Enjolras' lips.

_Achilles, jump now. You're out of reasons or excuses not to. Stop being so self-indulgent, as if you deserve it. Do you really think they actually need you? They barely want you around, let alone need you. Look at you, I thought you craved their - his - applause, how can you hate the attention now?_

_Remember what you said. Once the bottle is empty, you fall. So end it all now. It's a pointless resistance for you._

He only realized he had spoken those words out loud when he heard Enjolras calling for his name again.

"Achilles, put down the bottle, don't listen to what you've consumed. What it's saying is so wrong, don't you know? It's meaningless, it doesn't deserve to be fed. Focus on what I'm saying, alright? Stop listening to it - listen to _me_. I wouldn't lie to you, not like it is."

Grantaire eyed his bottle, swishing around whatever was left of his brandy. He placed it on the ground, and he saw Enjolras nod in encouragement.

"I understand how you're feeling, Achilles. You may feel like there's no purpose or point to stick around, but I promise you, it's just the gloom talking. It's not you - I _know_ you. Do not waste yourself on this roof. You're worth more than that. You might think that there's no meaning to this, and maybe there isn't an absolute one. It's up to you to find one, and I know that there's a part of you that wants you to - that same part is yelling at you to fight back, isn't it?"

Grantaire knew that another part of him was yelling loud enough to cover those screams Enjolras talked about, but as he listened to those words, he felt as if he could hear them again.

"You're going to win this, Achilles. I know you will. I know that overcoming sounds impossible, but you're courageous enough, I know you are."

As the voice in his head began yet another attack, his lips moving without his accord, he turned his back to the door, hearing Enjolras' voice grow more and more panicked. He slowly approached the edge, his mind clouded by the two voices overlapping in the fight for his attention.

_You want the acclaim, the mother of mothers._

"It's not worth it, Achilles."

_More poignant than fame, or the taste of another._

"Just don't listen, Achilles." He was going to miss the way Enjolras said his name. As he stared at the dark road under him, he couldn't help but realize how he always had hated his name, at least until Enjolras had started saying it.

_Be real and just jump, you dense motherfucker._

"You're worth more, Achilles." Oh, how he wished that were true.

_You will not be more than a rat in the gutter._

"So much more than a rat." If only he could see what he truly was.

 _You want my opinion, my opinion you've got_.

"No one asked your opinion."

_You asked for my counsel, I gave you my thoughts._

"No one asked for your thoughts."

_Be done with this now, and jump off the roof._

"Be done with this now, and get off the roof."

_Can you hear me, Achilles? I'm talking to you._

"Can you hear me, Achilles? I'm talking to you. I'm talking to you, Achilles, come down, come down!"

Enjolras was yelling like he did at protests, loudly banging on the door, attempting to open it despite knowing he wouldn't.

Grantaire closed his eyes. 

_One last look._

He looked back, tears in his eyes as he smiled, and saw all of his friends had joined Enjolras, a cacophony of screams of his first and last name clouding his thoughts. He yelled as tears freely fell on his cheeks, kicking his bottle and pulling on his hair in frustration. He took a deep breath and turned towards the edge of the building once again, tears now freely streaking across his face.

_Count to ten._

He closed his eyes and began counting out loud, breathing in with each number, begging for his friends to stop.

_One, two, three, don't look back, Grantaire. You're doing them a favor. Four, five, six, seven..._

Grantaire ran towards the door, unlocking it with shaky hands before throwing himself in his friends' embrace and begging for their forgiveness.

The next few minutes were a blur to Grantaire. He knows he hugged each and every one of his friends through the tears while they whispered confused words of reassurance, but he couldn't exactly remember what they had said. Joly and Bossuet had held him for around ten minutes each, Joly openly sobbing on his chest, whereas Bossuet had attempted - and failed - to seem more collected. Jehan had punched his shoulders before balling his shirt in their hands and breaking down, both Grantaire and Courfeyrac running reassuring hands down their back.

Then Courfeyrac and Combeferre had held him tight, their hands shaking slightly while they forcibly smiled and patted his cheeks. Cosette and Marius had done the same, while Bahorel had ruffled his hair with a fond look in his teary eyes.

Then had come Eponine, who looked like she wanted to yell at him. Grantaire braced himself for the yelling session, opening up his arms in defeat. Instead of tackling him to the ground like he had expected, Eponine had held him tight, her whole body shaking, while he ran a hand through her hair.

He had muttered and whispered apologies to each and every one of them, pleas of forgiveness almost perpetually rolling off his lips. He hated how miserable they all looked. He had made it his mission, to make sure they could always find a distraction from their problems in him, whether it was through a free drink, a casual conversation, or a walk in the park - Grantaire wanted to make his friends happy.

Knowing they had been crying and panicking for an indistinct amount of time because of _him_ , made him feel nothing short of a failure.

Lastly, he scanned the dark hall in search of Enjolras, fearing he had left. Instead, he found him curled on the floor, his head low as he pulled on his shaky fingers, taking deep breaths. Grantaire approached him tentatively, aware that everyone's gaze was trained on him. He placed a hand on his shoulder, startling him. Grantaire almost flinched at the helplessness in Enjolras' features and smiled in an attempt of reassurance. Enjolras nodded, mirroring a smile that was more a faint rise of the corners of his mouth than the heavenly sight Grantaire had gotten used to drowning in.

"Thank you." Grantaire started, interrupted by Enjolras waving a dismissive hand in front of his face.

"Don't even think about thanking me," Enjolras said. Granatire couldn't help but notice how shaky and weak his voice sounded.

Slowly, he bent down and kissed the top of Enjolras' head with reverence.

In a matter of seconds, Enjolras was frantically grasping his shirt, grappling his shoulders, and pulling him down to the ground, holding him against his chest as he burrowed his face in Grantaire's neck.

For the first time ever since they had met, Enjolras cried, sobbing and shaking. Grantaire whispered useless words of reassurance in his curls, carefully stroking every part he could get his hands on - his head, his arms, his sides, his shoulders.

After what felt like hours, Grantaire pulled back, placing his forehead on Enjolras' and capturing his lips in a quick kiss.

"Your name does suit you, you know?" He heard him whisper, almost imperceptibly. He smiled, his eyes filling with tears as he stroked his cheek.

"So does yours, Apollo."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I made it clear enough that everything is not magically okay, and that Grantaire definitely has a long way to go, but at least he's not alone. None of us are.  
> There's not much I can say, really. This was very emotional for me to write, and writing the notes for it now is extremely hard since I'm not sure this should be posted at all. I wish it could be better, but that's kind of how it is. Let me know if you have suggestions or constructive criticism, it's more than welcome - all I want is to improve. Thank you all for reading, I hope you liked this!


End file.
